


under the same sky

by zoldnoveny



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: :-), Established Relationship, M/M, Period-Typical Racism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Relationship Study, Strap-Ons, Trans Claude von Riegan, Trans Male Character, a lot of talk abt dedues relationship w dimitri, bottom dedue rights, but there are many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23021356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoldnoveny/pseuds/zoldnoveny
Summary: It’s more than the physicality, it’s the mutual understanding. It’s that when Claude bows, Dedue bends with him. It’s when Claude traces down the valley of his spine, and caresses the small of his back, and arches his eyebrows playfully. Dedue folds the curls back from his forehead and cups the crown of his head, watching his sea-glass eyes flicker to watch him. His eyelashes are long enough to cast shadows over his cheeks, a satisfying coral flush upon them.
Relationships: Dedue Molinaro/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	under the same sky

**Author's Note:**

> important: Claude is trans and i use some female coded language for his genitalia

Each time Claude kisses him, Dedue can feel his smile.

The corners of his lips stretch and curl, and the sharp line of his teeth bite gently where they touch. It’s a subtle, ephemeral thing, but it fills Dedue with such weightless joy he hardly knows how to comport himself.

Claude has opened his mind to a great deal of things; he has learned much from him. As Claude conducts himself, he’s effortlessly cunning and charismatic, his intelligence natural and non-threatening. He’s smart in ways Dedue can’t quite understand - ways that make him into an entirely different sort of King than Dimitri. His Highness once confessed to Dedue that he wished to learn from Claude, and now Dedue thinks he understands. Claude’s most attractive trait is his confidence. Believing in him is like believing in the ground is beneath your feet: true and absolute. 

Claude taught him to kiss in the shade behind the greenhouse at Garreg Mach, back when they were young enough for that to be a priority. Dedue had no choice but to follow his lead, believe in his presence so strongly that he did not doubt himself - because Claude was smiling, and surely that meant he was enjoying himself, and who was Dedue to doubt him?

Now, it’s the same. Even if Dedue did not shy away from Claude back then, certainly any lingering apprehension has been eaten away since. Claude’s easy confidence bleeds through him each time they touch. He makes Dedue brave. Dedue has no room to doubt himself because each nook and cranny is filled by the glowing warmth left in Claude’s wake. He’s compelled into action. As Claude kisses him, he folds him into his arms and claims that smile for himself.

Dedue followed Claude to Almyra after the war. Claude’s simply the sort of person who beckons followers - the sort of person who believes so strongly in his values they become as unadulterated as fact. Dedue believed in Dimitri, as well, and still does... but Claude showed him that staying with Dimitri would guarantee stasis. Dedue could not truly grow at Dimitri’s side, because he would always shrink himself in the wake of Dimitri’s large presence. It’s not Dimitri’s fault, and Dedue knows he’ll always love him. He’s a good man, and Dedue would have been happy staying with him. But with Claude, he’s learned not to brick the foundation of his happiness from someone else’s approval.

Dedue used to believe that he did not care what others thought of him. Rather, he did not  _ blame _ others for what they thought of him. He learned to swallow his pride and accept it, because their ignorance was not worth his time. But he did care - he always cared. It wore him down to perpetual exhaustion - a secret unbeknownst even to himself. Because how could he mind when it was simply the way of the world? But then Claude saw through the veneer and smiled at him out of neither forced pleasantries nor pity. A real smile.

“You’re just one man.” He told him once, back in school. “Even if it was true, you hardly represent the will of an entire nation - just like the will of an entire nation is hardly represented by the twisted actions of a few. Those assassins have nothing in common with you but the color of your skin.” There was a pause. “That’s all they see, though.”

And of course Dedue had thought that before, but it solidified when spoken aloud by someone else. Someone who, undoubtedly, understood beyond sympathy and hypotheticals.

So Dedue went with him. And kissed him under the unforgiving Almyran sun. Then, Claude followed him to Duscur, and they did much of the same there. And so it went, back and forth. Give and take. Live and learn.

Now, it’s winter, but the season is hardly as brutal as it was in Fódlan. It doesn’t snow, but the air gets heavy with cold and the sun sets earlier in the evening. It’s possible to wear more than one layer.

Claude was a lot quicker to get used to the heat, so now even this inconsequential shift in temperature disturbs him. He hates the cold. It’s laughably charming, and Dedue has long since gotten used to his griping. When they find themselves back in Claude’s rooms in the palace, he’s still shivering and rubbing his arms dramatically, damp from drizzling rain. He peels off his vest and sash and collapses onto the bed. The day has left its mark on him; it was a long one. Dedue, too, is weary, and settles onto the edge of the mattress. 

A sturdy arm encircles his waist, and suddenly he’s tugged back. Claude looms over him, upside down, perfectly coiled ringlets of hair framing his face. He smiles, so Dedue prepares himself to be kissed. He’s gifted also with a laugh. The kiss itself isn’t remarkable, the angle too awkward to be anything but chaste. But when Claude pulls back to grin down at him, weight propped up on one elbow, Dedue is giddy with it.

Outside, it’s begun to storm. It doesn’t snow, but rains, creating a soothing, rhythmic melody pattering against the windows. Periodically, there’s a distant crackle of thunder. A perfectly good backdrop to kiss to, as the two of them shift to face each other. Claude rolls Dedue onto his back against the headboard, hovering over him still, this time right-side’s up. Easier for Dedue to weave a hand in his hair and bring him down, so they can meet evenly.

“I like when you talk politics,” Claude tells him, through his teeth. “You’ve gotten quite good at it.”

“Just following your lead.”

“Oh, please. I don’t believe that for a second.” Claude separates to wave a hand between them, lowering his gaze coyly, “‘Cause I’m following yours.”

Dedue rolls his eyes and presses Claude into the mattress, flipping their positions. He’s full of it, and he knows it, all in the name of charm and flirtation. Still, Dedue is won over. Claude tilts his chin up and Dedue acquiesces, meeting him halfway.

Before, when Claude was a rare indulgence behind the monastery’s greenhouse, Dedue could not imagine the upcoming depth of their relationship. In the beginning, it was a pattern of coincidence; a right place, right time type of situation. Claude claimed it was stress relief, friendly fun. Which it was, but then it grew. Back then, Dedue loved Dimitri so fiercely he couldn’t imagine anyone but him - not that he’d ever dared to imagine them together, but still. Who else was there to fill his thoughts? What all-consuming desire to yawn inside of him? But then there was Claude.

Funny how that happened. 

It’s more than the physicality, it’s the mutual understanding. It’s that when Claude bows, Dedue bends with him. It’s when Claude traces down the valley of his spine, and caresses the small of his back, and arches his eyebrows playfully. Dedue folds the curls back from his forehead and cups the crown of his head, watching his sea-glass eyes flicker to watch him. His eyelashes are long enough to cast shadows over his cheeks, a satisfying coral flush upon them. 

“As much as I enjoy sharing the roundtable with a bunch of stuffy diplomats, my attention can only be held captive for so long.” Claude says. “Especially in the face of such appealing distraction.” He winks. “Good thing it was such an intelligent one.” 

“Yes, General Silbermann is quite captivating.” Dedue bites back. Silbermann is an emissary from Mach that Claude finds particularly aggravating - rightfully so. He’s wickedly self important but not smart enough to pull it off. Ever the peacemaker, Claude gracefully tolerates him, but Dedue knows it’s an active struggle.

His quip earns him a sharp laugh and a palm in the face. “Quiet, you.” Claude commands him.

“If you insist.” Dedue bends to find his mouth again.

Claude curls a hand around the back of his neck, other palm skirting up his chest. He’s warmed up significantly since they walked through the courtyard, not long ago, and thrums with renewed life. Dedue knows it won’t take much for that to fizzle out; he’ll fall asleep in little time at all. 

Before that, though.

Dedue kisses the corded muscle of his neck. The tender skin just beneath his jaw is rough with stubble; smelling of the piney oil Claude uses on his beard. Dedue relishes the sensation of gently running his lips over it, prickled slightly. Claude hums deeply enough that Dedue can feel it reverberate. Hands trace up his back as he begins to kiss more firmly, planting one over the soft spot under Claude’s ear. He takes his earlobe between his teeth, sucks just slightly, and Claude grasps his shoulders.

After kissing a pattern back up his throat and chin, Dedue settles on his mouth again. Claude runs fingers over the shorn hair at the sides of his head, before releasing the rest of it from its binding. Tightly coiled locs fall around Dedue’s face, pushed back by Claude’s ringed fingers. Dedue catches his palm with a kiss, and Claude’s eyes wrinkle at the corners warmly. 

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” He asks, catching Dedue with the inquiry. Claude is a talker - usually for the sake of pointing out something important, rather than just hearing his own voice... but he has something to say about everything. Therefore, Dedue knows to expect conversation, even in the throes of something that is usually done wordlessly.

“Yes.” Dedue is. It’s been a while since he’s been back home - not that here is any less home, but... it’s different. 

Claude understands that, of course, but sometimes Dedue finds himself feeling guilty - on both ends. He is confident that he belongs at Claude’s side, but his country needs him. In Almyra, he does everything he can, and knows he and Claude’s political diplomacy is appreciated. He is the Duscari Ambassador, after all, which is a needed position - especially as Almyra establishes itself as a mighty international power under its new King’s leadership. But he wants to be there, watching the land be born anew. He feels that he  _ should _ be there, to guarantee that. But how could he possibly leave Almyra, after everything it has done for him?

“Hey,” Claude smooths Dedue’s locs back, “I can practically hear you thinking too hard.” His thumb traces the small, knotted scar at Dedue’s temple.

“My apologies.” Dedue orients himself with a few blinks. 

“Don’t give me that.” Claude rolls his eyes, cheeks dimpled. He then taps Dedue’s forehead a few times, “What’s goin’ on up there?”

Dedue wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, considering his words. He trusts Claude enough to freely speak his mind, but wants to express himself accurately. “I am excited for tomorrow. I fear I do not visit Duscur as often as I should.”

Folding his arms over Dedue’s chest, Claude props his chin up with one finger poised delicately beneath it. A single lock of hair falls over his pursed brow, boyishly charming. “Well, you can go back whenever you want, you know.”

After readjusting his weight, Dedue lays a palm over the curve of Claude’s lower back. He can feel the valley in muscle beneath his thin linen tunic, without his silk vest or sash as barrier. The warmth of his skin bleeds through the fabric. “I know.” Dedue tells him. “But I feel as though I’m needed here.”

Claude balances his cheek in his palm. “Of course you are. You’re needed anywhere you want to be. There’s things to be done in every corner of the world... it’s just a matter of picking which one is best for you.”

It sounds so logical when Claude explains it thusly. “It’s not so simple.” Dedue sighs. “When I’m there, I want to be here, and vice versa.” With a wince, he immediately regrets saying that. “What I mean to say is - I love being here. I want to spend the rest of my days here, with you. But...”

“It’s okay.” Claude smiles honestly. “I get what you mean. That’s kinda how it was for me in Leicester. I mean, in the end, I wound up here, but still.”

Dedue’s heart swells. There is no greater intimacy than being understood.

“So go and enjoy yourself, then miss me enough to come back.” Claude winks. 

Dedue furrows his brow. “Of course I will.”

“Yeah, yeah, tell me some more, you big lug.” Claude’s laugh chimes as he rolls onto his back, looping dense arms around Dedue’s shoulders to bring him along.

They’re resituated with Claude beneath him, legs woven and hips slotted together, so Dedue can feel the exact shape of Claude’s thighs. With their torsos flush, each of Claude’s breaths expand against Dedue’s chest, slow and steady. Unable to forego the opportunity, Dedue traces the edge of Claude’s cheekbone down to his sharp jaw, then his neck. His finger dips under the low collar of his tunic, parting it to reveal the deep crevice between his pectorals, under a layer of curled dark hair. Dedue bows to kiss his collarbone, and Claude caresses the nape of his neck. 

“I cherish you.” Dedue says, into the hollow of his throat. He feels Claude’s laugh reverberate there and deep in his chest, a low rumbling. 

Claude pets the crown of his head, fingers peeking through the gaps between his locs against his scalp. “I know you do. And I, you.” He then begins to explore the top of Dedue’s back. “Won’t you do something about it?” Dedue hears the impish challenge in his voice.

In response, Dedue slides his palm down Claude’s abdomen to cup between his thighs. He’s soft and hot even through his shalwar. All clothing in Almyra is breathable and airy, so Dedue can feel every inch of him. Smoothly, Claude opens his legs. Dedue rubs two fingertips steadily against him. 

Reaching between them, Claude takes Dedue’s hand and guides it inside. Dedue first meets hair, thick and slightly damp, before he presses further. Heated skin yields under his touch, slipping past his fingers. He curls them lightly over Claude’s entrance - not within, but against. When he lifts his head, he finds Claude with his lips parted and glistening.

They meet halfway, Claude immediately licking behind his teeth and sucking on the tip of his tongue. His beard drags over Dedue’s cheeks, a pleasant burn. Dedue feels the breath rush out of him when he circles over his clit, a tiny hitch. Claude is very good at composing himself, but Dedue is very good at seeing past his glamour. He rubs a little harder, shifting his palm to lay against the rest of his groin, feeling when Claude tightens.

Dedue breaks their kiss and moves his mouth to hover over Claude’s ear, where he whispers his name.

“Mm, yes?”

Although he’s yet to say what he’s thinking, Dedue still flushes. Even now, he struggles with being bold. But he will persevere, not only for Claude, but himself. “I - I want to feel you, while I’m away. At least for a bit.”

There’s a split second of heavy silence, before he feels Claude’s cheek swell with a grin. “Oh?” He drawls, sliding a hand behind Dedue’s neck to pull him back, where he looks at him pointedly beneath heavy eyelashes. “That can definitely be arranged.” He kisses him quickly on the mouth, stroking his cheek. “Are you ready now?”

Heat travels up to the tips of Dedue’s ears. “Yes.” He’s not prepared but everything is... clean. It embarrasses him even to think about it, but he knows he has nothing to be ashamed of, for wanting it. It was something he didn’t even know men  _ could _ want until Claude showed him, paired with a lengthy explanation of the restrictions of gender roles and unhealthy masculinity. 

Well, that’s Claude.

Both of them disrobe while it continues to storm outside. Claude has already shed the bulk of his layers, but Dedue is still entirely clothed. Claude unravels the shawl from his shoulders and works his thawb over his head, before going for the trousers beneath. His hands leave trails of fire in their wake, calloused and thickset, rings shockingly cold in comparison. He takes those off and leaves them on a bedside table, one at a time, and Dedue watches his fingers as he goes, anticipating what’s to come. 

Naked, Claude sits up to go rifling through one of the table’s many drawers. He withdraws a leather harness, vial of oil, and a fake penis made from wood. Dedue tries not to imagine Claude commissioning a tanner and woodworker to make those things, but he knows he did unabashedly (and likely smugly.)

Claude climbs across the bed on his knees, necessary items in tow. Dedue adjusts himself comfortably in the pillows, looking up at him as he approaches. When he’s there, Dedue allows himself to be guided onto his stomach, Claude’s touch drifting down his spine. He shivers and grits his jaw, listening to Claude sink into the mattress beside him. His palm flattens over the dimples at the small of Dedue’s back, before running over his ass. He squeezes cheekily and Dedue looks pointedly from over his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Claude says, as least apologetic as possible. Predictably, he squeezes again, before kneading the flesh with a strong grip.

Considering he wasn’t even upset in the first place, Dedue easily melts into it. He sighs into his forearms, which are folded beneath his chin, and opens his legs a bit further. His reward is a pleased hum and the addition of Claude’s other hand, taking the opposite cheek. He grabs handfuls, hooking his thumbs along the crevice between, closing his fingers in a drag upward.

“A little more.” He murmurs.

Dedue spreads his legs wide.

“Good, that’s it,” Claude drops one hand and returns it to him quickly, now glancing his knuckles over Dedue’s perineum. Pressing just enough, tension bunches in Dedue’s shoulders. The pleasure there is only hinted at, but it’s enough to send a prickle through him. There’s an absence in contact, where Claude uncorks the vial with a  _ pop _ and comes back with his fingers slick. Some oil drips between Dedue’s cheeks, cool, juxtaposed by Claude’s warm palm travelling up the back of his thigh. He circles a wet finger over Dedue’s entrance, very gentle, before he rubs slowly. Claude loves to tease. He’s a very patient man, which is often infuriating. Dedue, trying to spur him on, arches his back slightly and pushes against him. Claude chuckles low in his throat. 

“Easy there.” He touches Dedue’s waist. “I’ve got you.”

Dedue grunts.

“It’s important to take your time.” Claude continues, rolling his fingers slowly, slowly. He presses enough to dip slightly past the pucker, but only just. His other hand returns from Dedue’s waist back to his behind, massaging languidly. 

When Dedue exhales next, it’s strained. 

Claude shifts, and his knee is now between Dedue’s legs - forcing them even further apart. Dedue is struck with vulnerability, but it’s good. Welcome. He curls his back and lifts his hips, burying his face in pillows.

“Well, aren’t you a vision.” Claude purrs, smirk audible in his voice. “That’s lovely.” His finger breaches Dedue and quickly slips inside to the first knuckle.

Dedue draws a breath in through his nose sharply. Claude sinks in deeper with consistent pressure, until he’s as far as he can go, at which point he curls upward. Even with only this, Dedue feels himself beginning to open. Claude has wonderful, wide fingers, and Dedue knows firsthand that he’s quite skilled with them. Pulling back, Claude sets an enduring rhythm. That stretches for a bit, and by the time Dedue’s accustomed, he’s sliding another finger in.

This, he definitely feels. His rim catches on Claude’s knuckles, stretching at the strain, closing around the intrusion. Claude voices his approval with a long hum, twisting and tilting upward. He clutches Dedue’s hip to keep him in position, steadying him, and Dedue feels himself grow hotter, heavier, and harder where he hangs between his thighs. Claude has not touched him there yet, but he doesn’t have to. This sends plenty of sparks of pleasure through him, making him buzz with desire.

“Feelin’ good?” Claude asks him. This is another thing he does often - these questions. They’re poised innocently, but he knows it flusters Dedue to speak in situations like these. 

“Yes,” Dedue grits out. 

“That’s what I like to hear.” Claude presses in, far enough to make Dedue’s toes curl… it’s not quite there, but so close. Dedue’s desire burns intensely in the pit of his gut. “Maybe a little too coherent, but we can fix that.”

Feeling confident, Dedue looks over his shoulder. “Get on with it, then.”

Claude’s face splits into a wolfish grin. “Fair enough. I like a man who knows what he wants.” He drops down to kiss Dedue’s shoulder, then his cheek, before biting the shell of his ear. “Gimme a sec.”

Dedue lays face-down with his hips canted while he waits for Claude to get himself ready. Why is he just doing this now? It seems awfully inefficient, and now he feels so empty… Perhaps Claude did this on purpose. Probably. In retaliation, Dedue reaches down to take hold of himself, stroking down the length slowly. It catches, since his hand is dry, but there’s enough precum gathered at the tip to smooth his way back up.

“Get on your knees for me.” Claude tells him, shifting in close so the fronts of his thighs press flush into the backs of Dedue’s. 

Dedue does so, balancing on his elbows. Claude squeezes his behind again, hooks his thumb back inside, and pulls him open. Dedue feels himself clench around nothing in anticipation. He hangs his head between his arms, biting his lip.

Then, unexpectedly, Claude bends down to lick a long stripe from his balls to his entrance. 

“ _ Claude _ .” Dedue gasps, thoughtlessly jerking back against him.

“Yeah, yeah.” Claude straightens back up, audibly wetting his lips. “I know.”

Pressure blooms at his hole as Claude holds himself there, easing against the tight strain. The blunt tip pinches slightly, before catching and slipping inside. Holding his breath, Dedue shivers all over. He hears Claude uncork the vial and feels him pour more oil over where they met. Then, there are fingers rubbing it in, and Claude’s pressing further inside.

“Here we go,” Claude exhales, holding onto Dedue’s hips, one hand much wetter than the other. He uses this leverage to pull Dedue back slightly, so they’re working in tandem.

Dedue tilts his pelvis upwards, forcing Claude in further with one smooth slide. Claude’s fingers close in tightly around his hips. “Yeah, that’s it…” he encourages. “Goddess, look at you.”

Dedue blushes deeply, embarrassed more by Claude’s praise than his actions. Feeling emboldened, he wiggles his hips slightly, until Claude is forced all the way inside of him. He feels the leather harness against his ass, as well as the sharp cut of Claude’s hipbones and his soft, downy hair. 

“You really want it, huh?” Claude marvels, running his hand over Dedue’s behind. He moves slightly, enough for the wood-piece to shift. When Dedue doesn’t reply, he sinks his fingers in. “Hm?”

“Y-yes.” Dedue chokes out.

“Mm, me too.” Claude stills with his palm right under Dedue’s spine, drawing his hips back to push back in slowly. 

Static bursts under Dedue’s skin and his back bows, pleasure fizzling through him at the point of contact. With each breath he takes, he’s reminded of how full he is, split open around the wood-piece’s girth, his muscles clenching around it and drawing it in. He chews the inside of his cheek, aching for more.

Claude continues, withdrawing an inch and pushing it back in unhurriedly. It feels good, but it’s not enough. “How do you want it?” He inquires, “like this? Or slower?” He drops his pace. “Faster?” He picks it back up with a sharp snap. 

Dedue coughs out a groan. “Faster.”

Claude laughs. “Thought so. You did say you wanted to feel it later.”

Dedue has often wondered how Claude manages such confidence. He’s thought many times that it’s one of his most winsome virtues, and that speculation reiterates itself now. The ease with which Claude talks in such a manner is intoxicating - he never doubts that his words will be the best thing to say in each situation - and for all Dedue knows, they could be the worst possible choice… but the way he says them, absolute and assured… Dedue cannot help but bow to them.

Claude reciprocates this by obeying Dedue’s request. This time, after he withdraws, he shoves quickly back in, jostling Dedue until the bedframe creaks. Rolling his hips, the new rhythm is set: quick and unforgiving. It builds with every thrust, each faster than the former. His grip on Dedue’s hips tighten, pulling him back into every stroke, angling him so the wood-piece slides perfectly upward, glancing briefly over where Dedue wants it. His hipbones slap loudly against the top of Dedue’s ass, the sound of skin-on-skin slick with budding sweat. The bed bangs, and Dedue is breathing loudly with his blood rushing in his ears.

He can barely hear the rain outside.

Claude holds him still and drives in all the way to the hilt, gyrating slowly so he rubs circles inside him. Dedue clenches down hard, syrupy pleasure spiking and turning sharp, heat exploding in his belly. A long, broken moan is torn from him. He drags himself upward enough to shift his weight down, forcing Claude deeper. And there it is, right against that bundle of nerves. 

He bites the inside of his cheek until his mouth tastes metallic, jaw gritted and brow furrowed. Heat and energy pulses over him in a flash, like a cresting wave. Chasing after that feeling once more, Dedue fucks himself on Claude’s dick.

“Shit.” Claude groans, reaching around to grab Dedue’s cock, holding it tightly in his palm. He jerks his hips upwards to meet him. “There you go, that’s beautiful. Fuck.”

Dedue enjoys the obvious strain in his voice, slanting downward once more. Now, they move in tandem, and each time Claude is all the way in, he’s exactly where Dedue wants him - all the while, stroking him off. A heavy sheen of pleasure settles around him, sparks starting in his groin and spreading up each digit of his spine, all the way to every fingertip. It goes fuzzy around the edges, but bares down with intensity.

A sudden lick of lightning illuminates the whole room and there’s a slight tremble with the following thunder. Dedue hears himself and Claude all the more clearly in the following silence. Both of them breathe heavily, Dedue’s voice catching in it, between small grunts and gasps.

Claude closes his fist around Dedue’s dick, and it’s the one slick with oil, so Dedue slips through easily. The pressure and heat is delicious, urging him alongside the warmth pooling within.

Synchronized, Claude presses forward when Dedue pushes back, their weight shifting to bare down entirely in that moment of complete connection. Already, something knits together in Dedue’s gut, muscles in his abdomen tensing. Fucking Claude’s fist, he’s ushered to the edge, teetering so close he can see the bottom. Then, Claude drives in with a clean smack, harder and deeper than before, and does so again. And once more. 

Dedue collapses back against the mattress, lifting his hips as far as they go, back arched until it hints at aching. Claude can no longer touch his dick like this, so Dedue reaches down and does it himself. 

“You close?” Claude gasps.

Dedue nods into the pillows, curling his knees beneath him and splaying them wide open. More of Claude is swallowed inside, just as his thumb catches beneath the head of his cock, and he curses loudly. The thread snaps, and he drowns under a rush of heady pleasure. 

He comes with his voice muffled by the pillows, legs shaking with the force of it, hand wet and sticky. It takes a long moment for him to find himself once more, head spinning. He registers his surroundings slowly: Claude behind him, the bed beneath him, the room around them, the rain outside. He breathes in slowly through his nose, then out through his mouth. His skin is still buzzing.

Claude rubs his back as he inches out. There’s an embarrassing popping noise and then Dedue is empty; shockingly so.

“You okay?” Claude asks sweetly. He leans down and kisses the back of Dedue’s neck. “That was great.”

Dedue is awash with affection, heart squeezing at Claude’s kindness. He rolls onto his back with only a small amount of effort, cupping a hand over one of Claude’s pectorals and leaning up to kiss him. With a hum, Claude acquiesces... his lips feel swollen, like he’s been biting them. Dedue soothes them with his tongue.

They part with a small, wet noise. “Thank you.” Dedue murmurs, watching his eyelashes flutter. “That was just what I wanted.”

“Well, I  _ do _ know how to please my man.” Claude preens.

“Quite,” Dedue agrees, reaching down to fumble with the straps of the leather harness. He finds the buckle and undoes it, so the thing falls to the mattress between them. Then, on shaking legs, he sits up on his haunches and steers Claude into his former place, guiding him to the pillows.

“Oh?” Claude arches an eyebrow up at him, cheeks dimpling. He opens his legs and displays the wetness there, shining dully.

Dedue kisses a pattern down the darkest line of hair over his abdomen. His stomach lifts with a breath. Settling a palm on either of Claude’s damp thighs, he pushes them further apart. His hands span the entire width of them, which is a fetching image. Claude is sturdy and strong, but under Dedue, he is small. For a reason Dedue doesn’t understand, he is captivated by this.

Claude sets a hand on the top of his head as Dedue leans in and licks him from his entrance to his erection. Dedue closes his lips around it, flicking his tongue over the underside. He pulls off with a sharp suck, tongue heavy with Claude’s briny, earthy taste, before flicking his tongue in slow, broad strokes.

Claude grips his hair, cursing under his breath. He tilts into it, reaching to pull back the hood of his clit and expose himself fully. Dedue laves over it, saliva tracing down his chin where it’s pressed flush to him. Claude throws his head back and promptly goes taut, before he’s overtaken by a series of tremors. 

Dedue licks him through climax while his thighs close around his head and threaten his air supply. It’s worth it. When Claude finally lets him breathe again, he kisses his clit and watches him shiver. Then pulls back.

“Shit.” Claude wipes a hand over his face and twitches. He grins through his fingers. “I’m going to miss you like hell, man.”

Dedue wipes his wet face and scoots up to lay beside Claude, kissing his cheek and settling in behind him, arms wrapped around his middle. Claude adjusts his weight to mold his back to his chest, and Dedue moves his lips to his neck. He will miss him, too - desperately. 

After Dedue’s lifted the quilt over them and wrapped Claude back up in his arms, snug and warm for the night, Claude places a hand over Dedue’s. “I love fucking you.” He says sincerely.

“I would hope so.” Dedue hides his face in Claude’s hair. 

Claude snickers, squeezing Dedue’s fingers. “You were really hot tonight.”

Dedue ignores the heat in his cheeks. How is it, after all this time, Claude can still make him blush like a schoolgirl? “...Thank you, my love.”

“Oh, it’s no problem.” Claude sighs, “Thank  _ you _ .”

Dedue swallows. “You’re welcome.”

Running his fingertips up Dedue’s forearm, Claude resituates himself. “I think you’ll have an excellent time in Duscur. I’m glad you get to go, even if I have to suffer through missing you.”

Dedue holds him tighter. “You don’t know how much that means to me.” He whispers, right into Claude’s ear. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Claude replies.

If Dedue ever knew things could be like this - this good, this natural - his past would have been much different.


End file.
